


Childhood

by ximeria



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood, Love, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles grew up in a big house with a wealthy family, his childhood was by no means a bed of roses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** hints at troubled childhoods, abuse physically as well as psychologically
> 
> I've borrowed tidbits from the childhood of Xavier from the comic books.

Erik leans against the table and watches Charles as Charles watches the grounds beyond the window and the rain, lost in deep thought.

They've been here at the house... well, mansion for half a day now and Erik has gotten himself lost twice already. He keeps thinking how different their childhoods have been, how secure Charles' must have been. A home, a family, no worries about where food would come from next, no worries about the next torture session...

"It's been a long time since Raven and I were here last," Charles suddenly says. He doesn't turn from the window, just stares out at the wet evening.

Erik looks around. He knows Charles called to have someone open the house for them, probably to clean it as well because there's no dust on any surface he can see. He walks over to where an unopened bottle of scotch sits on a small wooden table, along with several glasses. He opens the bottle and pours two glasses, picks them up and makes his way over to stand behind Charles. "You must have missed it." He still doesn't quite get Charles. He wants to, and he wants to lose the slight feeling of resentment that Charles had this while he had the camps... and Schmidt or Shaw as he calls himself these days.

Charles still doesn't turn around, but lifts a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. He huffs for a moment, then his shoulders sag. "No... well, it's not the house, it's the... the memories of this place." He turns his head a little and accepts the glass that Erik holds out for him. "Don't get me wrong," he says, barely audible before taking a sip, savoring it. "There are good ones as well, especially when Raven came into my life, but…."

"You had her, your mother… your father?" Erik chances a guess, because as much as they've talked long into the night during their little recruiting trip; Charles has been surprisingly tight lipped about his own family. He knows so much about Erik, but he seems to share very little of himself. At least the more serious side - Erik's heard several tales from Charles' years in Oxford.

Charles shakes his head. "My father died when I was very young, my mother re-married one of his colleagues and…," Charles trails off.

Erik waits. He tries not to make assumptions and if Charles is opening up now, he would be stupid to stop him. He watches as Charles hand holding the glass shakes, the amber liquid splashing against the sides. He reaches out and folds his fingers around Charles', steadying the glass. He's surprised that Charles makes no move to take his hand back, he just stares at it, head cocked to the side.

"Kurt Marko and his son moved into this house and that feeling of security I had always associated with this place…," Charles trails off again.

Erik can feel the vibration under his hand, can feel the tension in the body in front of him, although there's at least a couple of inches between them.

"Kurt Marko was not a good man," Charles says quietly. "I wouldn't call his son, Cain a good boy either, but Cain was the product of the environment he grew up in and the fact that Kurt beat him up on a regular basis." Charles huffed something that could have been a laugh, but there was no mirth in it. "Not that it made him less of a bully or excused any of it, really."

"Raven," Erik says, wondering if this was after or before Raven had come along. He knows she and Charles aren't siblings by blood.

"She came to us a couple of years down the road," Charles says. "My powers had already manifested themselves - I used them mainly to stay under the radar. It always made me feel bad that I wasn't powerful enough to protect Cain as well. As my skills grew, I used them to protect Raven instead. To make them think she'd always been there." Charles takes a deep breath, "To make them ignore her."

This time Erik's hand tightens around Charles'. He doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to….

"No, you don't want to know, just how filthy Kurt Marko's mind was, especially on the nights where my mother had passed out from a bottle of gin and he'd had too much scotch."

Erik sets his own glass down, suddenly too focused on the sour taste in his mouth, brought forth by Charles' implication. He doesn't put his free hand on Charles' shoulder, although he wants to. He fists it to keep it in place, next to his thigh. He isn't sure what might happen if he touches Charles beyond the grip on the hand and the glass. He's almost afraid that Charles might shatter, like glass.

A strangled noise escapes Charles as he takes half a step back, bringing him up flush against Erik's front, his hand swinging back to take a hold of Erik's fist and guiding his arm around to hold it against his chest. "I won't break," he hisses, "but please trust me when I tell you, while my childhood was nowhere near as bad as yours, it wasn't a happy one either. Raven wasn't lying when she said the 'hardship' of living here was softened by her."

Erik closes his eyes and holds on, feeling the heat of Charles body against his own and the warmth under his hand as he unfurls it and presses his palm flat against Charles' chest.

Charles sags against him. "I'm sorry my friend, I shouldn't be drinking when I'm in this mood, it tends to make me maudlin." He turns his head a little, his face shadowed between Erik and the darkness of night having replaced the evening outside.

Erik leans his head against Charles', letting him know that there are no hard feelings, that he knows Charles knows how fucked up his childhood was. It seems, even with a vastly different setting, one potentially so much safer than Erik's, did nothing to soften a childhood.

Charles draws a deep breath and Erik can just make out his eyes are closed; the long lashes dark against his cheeks.

"Raven and I left soon as we could, and I made sure, that after my mother's death, Marko got nothing - and I know he married her for her money, so I feel no regret whatsoever. I also may have used my powers of persuasion to make sure the Markos never wanted to come back here."

"Your… powers of persuasion," Erik repeats. He is seeing sides of Charles he thought didn't exist.

"I planted the suggestion in their minds that the house was haunted, which wasn't really too far from the truth," Charles says with a small laugh. "The ghosts of ruined childhood memories still lingered. Still linger," he corrects himself.

"It is less than what I would have done in your place," Erik says, his lips close enough to brush Charles' cheek, just at the corner of his eye.

Charles shivers. "I know, but if I had done more than that, I would have been no better than they were, the difference merely that they used brute strength to get their way and I used my mind." He sighs. "I was so powerful at that point, I'm not sure that I could have lived with myself if I'd sunk to their level."

Erik isn't sure for how long they stay like that, but he's content to not move for the foreseeable future. Charles and his idealism and ethics should grate on Erik, and possibly they do, but it's buried beneath fascination and something else, something that warms Erik in ways he isn't used to. He eventually takes Charles' glass and puts it aside, folding both his arms around Charles body. Charles puts both his hands on Erik's and just keeps them there, warm and assuring.

Staying like that, just holding and watching the rain running down the windows, Erik revels in the heat of the nearness as Charles stays where he is. He allows himself to do so, at least for the time being, because Erik is no fool and life has taught him to handle loss far better than to gratefully accept happiness.

The End


End file.
